


Road Trip with the God of Mischief

by pillow_fort_fanatic



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Friendship, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Platonic Relationships, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25991977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pillow_fort_fanatic/pseuds/pillow_fort_fanatic
Summary: Loki's probationary period stuck in the Avengers Tower has finally ended, and somehow you've been roped into helping your unpredictable teammate move to an apartment in...Ohio? Road trip!
Relationships: Loki (Marvel) & Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Road Trip with the God of Mischief

The day that his probationary period ended, Loki Friggason announced over breakfast that he was moving out of the Avengers Tower, surprising precisely no one.

“If anything,” Tony quipped after the prince had swept out of the room ‘to pack his things’, “I’m more surprised he didn’t wake us all up at midnight with an announcement from JARVIS”

“He considered it, Master Stark,” JARVIS mused. “But ultimately I believe he wanted to gauge your reactions in person.”

Sounded about right, in your opinion. And you had _plenty_ of opinions about Loki. You’d both spent the past year-and-a-half proving yourselves to your teammates—you because you were young and inexperienced, Loki because he was ancient and...overly experienced...in the wrong things—and despite the fact that he played it off like he was content to be a lone wolf, there had been more than a bit of commiserating together about the unfairness of your respective lots. He was certainly an ally and usually a friend and, on one ill-fated night you both quickly agreed to never repeat, almost something more. This history of camaraderie was probably why it was you who first had the privilege of learning his precise plans.

“Ohio? Odin’s beard, Loki‒” you’d picked up this specific turn of phrase from Thor, and it had become something of an inside joke between you and Loki, “‒why Ohio? I figured you’d, like, get an apartment in Midtown or something.”

He lifted a shoulder in that ‘I’m-an-enigma’ way that drove you mad and smirked. “Why not Ohio? I’ve yet to visit and I’m told the scenery is...unique.”

“Unique. Loki, the bottom of the Marianas Trench is unique, but you don’t see anyone lining up to move there.” You huffed in exasperation. “Besides, there’s no way Tony’s going to agree to come fetch you from the middle of nowhere every time Steve bellows ‘Assemble!’”

The god was not to be deterred by my sound dose of reason. “I’ve already begun strengthening the runes of binding here in the tower. I’ll be able to teleport here with almost no effort whenever my assistance is needed.” A glimmer of mischief appeared in his eyes then. “Or are you more worried that you’ll miss me?”

“Miss you?” You poured as much disdain as you could into those two little words. “About as much as I’d miss bed bugs.” At the look that crossed his face, you jumped in to add, “Don’t even think about it, you rat!”

A glimmer of green light later, you were staring down at a rat. An actual, honest-to-goodness rat.

You turned on your heel and left.

Later that day, gathered around the kitchen counter eating the takeout ordered in by whomever was assigned dinner duty—you and Nat were basically the only ones who ever cooked for your rotations—Loki announced his location of choice to the rest of the team. They took it, more or less, about as well as you had. Clint was the one exception, chiming in with the best out-of-the-way diners and tourist spots. Of course Clint would know somewhere as random as Ohio like the back of his hand. Of course he would.

But the real twist was when Loki made the addition he’d clearly been saving for the moment of maximum drama: he insisted on moving himself to Ohio. Via a rented box truck.

Admittedly, even you got a kick of Tony’s spluttering annoyance when the diva god wouldn’t even let him buy the rental truck company for the occasion. Loki was going to rent a truck ‘like a regular mortal’ and drive the eight hours to the apartment he’d chosen. Oh, and you were driving his car.

Later you’d realize that you hadn’t known Loki owned a car, you hadn’t known he was taking said car to Ohio, and you certainly hadn’t known you were going to be the one driving. In the moment, however, you gave a long-suffering sigh and nodded your assent. Yes, you’d be joining your friend on this ridiculous quest to piss off Tony Stark. (Loki’s true purpose had become obvious to you the moment you saw the first spark of indignation in the inventor’s eyes.)

Loki would need another day to finish packing and then the two of you would be leaving first thing the following morning, though what all he needed to pack that would require a box truck as well as the trunk of his mystery car, you couldn’t fathom. And so it was settled.

Only, of course, nothing about the situation left your fellow Avengers ‘settled’ in the least.

“What if he gets bored and blows up Cleveland?” Steve groused.

“What has Dayton done to deserve the god of mischief taking up residence there?” Sam groaned.

“I swear, if he takes Cincinnati hostage…” Wanda grumbled.

You just grinned.

Despite thinking this was a foolhardy decision on Loki’s part, you were going to get a day off from the tangle of superheroes who largely defined your world, and it had admittedly been forever since you took a long road trip. They’d been one of the crowning joys of your college years—with the exception of that one time you got duped into doing a nineteen-hour drive by yourself when your co-pilot had to bow out at the last minute—and you spent an inordinate amount of time the next day fine-tuning your Spotify playlists. The best news was that you wouldn’t even have to listen to Loki judging your music choices: he’d be in the rental truck.

You woke with the dawn on the day of the trip, not by choice but because Loki had deemed it necessary to teleport into your room and poke your face repeatedly until you drug yourself out of bed with a flurry of groans and mumbled curses. Really, he was such a child sometimes.

The bright side of this was that traffic wasn’t too awful when you hit the road, and your mood improved as you munched on the pastries you’d found waiting on the dashboard of the cherry red convertible that Loki assured you was his. His car was cute, he’d remembered your taste in sugary confections, and you’d really outdone yourself with your playlists. When he telepathically checked in with you outside of NYC city limits, you told him that you didn’t hate him. It was as good as he was going to get before 11am, and he accepted it as such.

For the first half of the day, you just revelled in the open road and the too-loud music you blasted unrepentantly through the car’s very excellent speaker system, leaving you in good spirits when the two of you pulled over for lunch at a little cafe in Pennsylvania.

Watching Loki wince and stretch after so long in the driver’s seat of the rental truck only made you feel better, and you laughed gamely, “What’s wrong, old man? Your ride not up to your standards?”

This earned a truly spectacular grimace from him. “While I am millenia your senior‒”

“And miles my superior,” you interrupted in a mumble. 

“‒I am far from being an ‘old man.’ And you mortals have terrible taste in conveyance.”

You hummed thoughtfully before offering, “Your car is pretty comfy.”

“Perhaps,” he sneered, “we should trade.”

All but skipping up to the door of the cafe, you glanced back cheerily. “Nah. I agreed to drive your car, not your dumb truck.” Loki was always a perfect gentleman who held the door open for you, so when you held the door open for him it was just one more burr under his skin. You smiled angelically as he frowned. “Coming, old man?”

It was no real shock he didn’t pick up your tab.

“How are you doing as far as driving?” he asked later as he practically lounged on the hood of the car at a gas station. “Think you can make it to Chicago tonight, or do we need to stop sooner?”

The fuel nozzle shut off despite your surety that the tank wasn’t yet full. “I’m game to keep going if you are,” you mused as you held the handle down to manually get the thing full. “I found the stash of energy drinks you left for me in the backseat, so I can always grab one of those if I’m dragging before we get in.”

“Excellent. I’ll book the hotel when we get a little closer.”

A hazy voice whispered in the back of your mind that something was wrong, but it was easy enough to dismiss it as the stupid nozzle tripped itself yet again. How you always ended up at faulty gas pumps was something you’d never quite understood, and Loki laughed as you exclaimed your suspicion that you might be cursed in this regard. He assured you that he could sense no gas station curse over you. You didn’t feel reassured as you finally holstered the nozzle and the pump failed to print your receipt.

Pennsylvania flowed by in an unbroken blur of pastoral bliss.

Ohio was every bit as desolate as you’d always imagined, though Loki made a game of telepathically murmuring ‘ _Cows,_ ’ every time you passed one and the idiocy of it kept you entertained for far longer than it should have. Especially when the cows began to appear in increasingly outlandish shades and it occurred to you that Ohio’s cow population was potentially far lower than Loki’s illusions would have you believe.

By the time you were nearly to Chicago that night, you’d abandoned your playlists in favor of listening to the _Chicago_ soundtrack on repeat and evidently it was enough of an earworm that Loki complained of it bleeding through the telepathic link he’d established for communication. You merely turned up the volume and sang along at the top of your lungs.

The hotel magically showed up on your GPS when you were about an hour out, which was one of the perks of traveling with a magical being, and it was late enough that you were able to once again avoid the worst of the city traffic. You loved road trips, but hated traffic, so this suited you just fine. As did the luxurious room Loki had booked for the two of you to share.

As you sat cross legged on your bed, munching on the deep dish Loki had ordered as a late-night snack, that troublesome whisper reasserted its insistence that something wasn’t right about this situation.

“Loki?” you tried, though it came out very muffled around the huge bite of pizza you’d just taken, so you had to start again after you’d swallowed. “How long of a drive have we got tomorrow?”

“Mm, probably a pretty full day.” He was just finishing toweling his hair dry from his shower, and he tossed the towel aside in favor of a slice of pizza before he continued. “We can’t make it all the way to Oklahoma City in one day, but I’d like to make some decent progress.”

“Makes sense.” Only...did it? You shook your head softly. Of course it did. You were here to help Loki drive out to his new place in Oklahoma City, you knew that.

“Another slice?” Loki held it out, nearly dripping tomato sauce all over the bedspread, and you yelped as you lunged forward to cup your hand under it before he could make a mess. He chuckled and settled back onto his own bed once you’d secured your prize. “We don’t have to make quite as early a start tomorrow as we did today, but don’t stay up too late, okay?”

You merely nodded your assent, mouth full of pizza again. Maybe Tony could be talked into moving the Avengers headquarters to Chicago? New York style pizza was great, but this deep dish was rocking your world in a way you hadn’t known was possible. Pizza seemed a perfectly logical reason to uproot everyone else’s lives, and your dreams that night were full of tomato sauce and melted cheese.

You woke in the morning not to Loki poking you, but to him waving a slice of cold pizza under your nose. It was a very effective alarm clock, and you hummed happily to yourself as you munched and dressed and followed Loki down to the car. Even his glare wasn’t enough to chase off your cheer as you hijacked the aux cord and chose the first playlist of the day.

“I seem to recall you telling me that your policy growing up was that the driver gets to choose the music,” Loki complained as an especially perky tune assaulted his senses.

“That was then.” You shrugged before returning to the little dance he’d interrupted. “This is now.”

His hand tightened around the steering wheel as he frowned deeply at the road in front of him. “I don’t,” he muttered, “see the difference.”

“Too bad,” you laughed, and you made it another half hour before insisting he pull over to put down the convertible top.

Later you’d realize that it was strange that the rental truck had disappeared overnight, and even stranger that Loki put up with all your silly whims and equally silly song choices as the day continued. In the moment, however, you just enjoyed the presence of one of your best (though also most unlikely) friends and the feel of the wind rifling through your hair and the old-timey charm of the small towns you passed through.

Despite his statement the night prior that he wanted to make ‘decent progress’ toward Oklahoma City, Loki didn’t seem in too much of a rush. If you so much as commented that a shop or bakery looked cute, he’d pull off the road so that you could explore it. After lunch he went full-on artist and roped you into an eclectic photoshoot that you only agreed to if he’d let you take some pictures of him afterward. Somehow he still managed to look dark and brooding against the backdrop of old Route 66. You, on the other hand, looked radiant in every shot.

The following days of travel down the historic highway fell into an easy rhythm as the tension of your profession melted away from both of you, and it certainly helped that Loki was so accommodating. His taste in music, when you finally agreed to share the aux cord, turned out to be as eclectic as yours, and you’d figured out the overlap on your tastes by day five on the road. By day six, you’d created a playlist of your shared favorites, and by day eight you’d choreographed a dance to your “Trip Song.” Loki refused to participate, but you never stopped goading him to whenever the song came on. Thanks to your DJing skills, it came on quite a lot.

Sometimes, stopped for fuel or holed up in a cute motel for the night, that little whisper of unease returned. ‘How much of a drive tomorrow?’ you’d ask, and Loki would shrug and tell you that you’d try to make good progress, but couldn’t quite make it before dark to his new apartment in Oklahoma City.

In Amarillo.

In Albuquerque.

In Flagstaff.

‘Another chill couple days of driving,’ he’d assure you. ‘No rush. We’ll get there.’

Later, you’d realize what was going on, but in the moment, you didn’t _want_ to be uneasy. In the moment, you didn’t want anything to spoil this vacation.

The car got a flat tire on the twelfth day, and Loki suggested the two of you explore a bit of the desert while you waited on the replacement. You found the Arizona landscape beautiful, in its own barren way, and ended up wandering far longer than it took to get the tire fixed. He didn’t even protest when you insisted this was where you wanted to spend the night. Together, you watched the sun set from the top of a giant rock, and for once it was you waking up Loki before dawn so you could drag him out to watch it rise again from the same vantage point.

“I hate New York,” you murmured to him as the two of you huddled together under a blanket you’d snagged from the motel room. “Why do I stay?”

He paused a moment before answering, taking in the way the sun streaked the horizon with a golden brilliance that rivaled Asgard’s. “Because you love your work.” A soft tug at a strand of your hair got you to turn your face to his. “Because despite the smog and the traffic and the noise, you have a purpose there.”

“As do you,” you whispered.

“As do I,” he affirmed.

You leaned your head against his shoulder and watched as Arizona outdid herself that morning.

After that sunrise, things were still easy between you, but you could somehow feel anticipation building with each mile you traveled. You made fewer stops that day. Occasionally Loki would reach out and squeeze your hand, no explanation given. When LA’s muddy skyline finally spread itself across the horizon, you found tears gathering in your eyes.

“You okay?” Loki asked softly.

“Yeah,” you murmured in return. “We’re running out of road.”

“We’re running out of road.”

After a heavy moment, you started your Trip Song, then switched to something else only a few lines in. “You never dance,” you offered as explanation. “What use is it choreographing a trip song if you never dance?”

“Has it occurred to you,” he drawled with more sarcasm than was strictly necessary, “that perhaps I refuse because what you’re doing cannot truly be considered dancing?”

“Has it occurred to you,” you volleyed back, “that perhaps I don’t care?”

The wolfish grin that spread across his face as he flipped on his hazards and pulled to the side of the road was frankly terrifying. “Get out,” he announced. “We’re switching drivers.”

Over the past days you’d switched drivers plenty of times, but usually he’d wait until you’d already stopped for fuel or snacks or a stretch break. Nevertheless, you dutifully circled the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. “You’d better be an excellent navigator, because I have no desire to get lost in LA.”

He rolled his eyes and gave you a ‘go on’ motion. “Quit fussing and just drive.”

You huffed at his order, but were already checking your rearview mirror for clearance to pull back out on the highway. Which meant you didn’t notice him grabbing your phone and switching back to the song you’d just skipped. Which meant you were caught totally off guard when Loki, god of Asgard and dark prince of mischief, began to perfectly replicate the choreography you’d been rubbing in his face for days.

The whole dance was intentionally rather dorky, but Loki’s lanky limbs and exaggerated intensity made the whole thing that much more ridiculous. You were in absolute hysterics, and that was _before_ he started singing along.

Ultimately you had no choice but to pull over so you could dance it together.

Hours later, you were still riding the feeling of giddy joy as you stood on a Santa Monica beach, toes curled in the sand, watching the sun set over the Pacific ocean.

“Well,” he asked, grinning down at you, “what do you think? Worth it?”

“So worth it,” you grinned back. “So, so worth it.”

“Good.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and squeezed affectionately. “You deserved a vacation.”

A particularly large wave rolled in and you scampered back with a shriek before it could soak your cuffed jeans, earning a throaty laugh for which you smacked him in the shoulder. “Is that what this was? I thought it was me getting roped into helping you move.”

“Ah.” If he had been anyone besides Loki, god of mischief, you’d have said the expression crept across his features then was something like sheepish. But Loki was never sheepish. “About that…” he mumbled.

“...yes?”

“I may have...mislead you somewhat in that regard.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and this time it was _undoubtedly_ sheepish.

You laughed, “Loki, when do you not mislead me? I’m used to it by now.”

He reached up to cup your cheek then, and for a moment you thought the sunset and the natural romanticism of being on a beach at sunset had swept him away and he was going to take a second try at the romance that had failed so spectacularly between the two of you months ago. But instead his fingers brushed against your temple and you felt the magic you hadn’t known was there begin to unfurl.

You stared up at him.

And then stared some more.

“What,” you began in a dangerously low growl, “were you thinking.”

To his credit, he didn’t back away in fear at the rapidly growing anger behind your eyes. “As I said, you deserved a vacation.”

“Vacations,” you snarled, “do not generally involve being kidnapped. And this,” you jerked away from him, “is not Ohio.”

“Clearly. There isn’t a beach in Ohio.”

He should have seen your punch coming. He really should have.

“Hey,” he muttered, the only thing affected by the blow you’d landed to his stomach being his huge ego.

“Did anyone else know?!”

“We’ve been concealed from Tony’s tracking devices since we went through Mansfield…” Again, he sounded sheepish. This time you didn’t care.

“So for all anyone knows, I’ve been...been taken off-world by the clearly-not-reformed god of lies?!” Your use of the loathed title earned a wince from said god.

“You needed to get away,” he insisted, a hint of earnestness that you refused to acknowledge creeping into his voice, “and our _dear_ Captain is too narrow-minded and uptight to have allowed it. Even if he had, you wouldn’t have been able to relax and enjoy yourself. You get so caught up in the world needing you—which it does, assuredly—that you neglect the fact that you need the world.” He reached out to touch your cheek again, and you yanked your face away. Softly, sadly, he murmured, “You hate New York. I just wanted you to be somewhere you didn’t hate for a few days...”

“A few days?” An incredulous laugh that was dangerously close to tears bubbled up from your chest. “Loki, we’ve been gone almost two weeks on a trip that was meant to last a day. Your brother’s probably frantic, the team will be livid, and I...I don’t know what the Hel I’m meant to think.” You swiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, though you were most certainly not crying right now. “Bad enough that my best friend is moving out of state, but now I’m not even sure that he is who I thought he was.”

He offered a weak smile along with a handkerchief. “Actually, I’ve rented a lovely little apartment in Midtown.”

You fiercely snatched the handkerchief in an attempt to hide your impulse to laugh: he was moving exactly where you’d first guessed he would. Typical.

However, the ferocity must not have fooled him, because he sounded a smidge more confident as he continued, “There’s a fire pit on the rooftop and a guest bedroom that will always be open. If, you know, you can ever see your way to forgiving me and wanted to come over for s’mores and a movie.”

“You,” you huffed, “wouldn’t even know what s’mores were if not for me.”

“No,” he smiled. “No, I would not.”

The sun had dipped past the horizon by now and you gazed out over the ocean as the light faded, considering things. You had to admit, the past eleven days had been exactly the thing you never realized you needed. He’d gone about it all wrong, trying to give it to you, but maybe tangled up all wrong was what you’d signed up for when you’d befriended this messy god.

“Fine,” you eventually conceded. “But you’re providing the marshmallows. And you’re the one who’s going to explain to Tony and Steve why I haven’t answered my phone in over a week.”

“So long as you make it clear to them that I’m not a, how did you put it, ‘clearly-not-reformed god of lies,’ I can handle making amends.” He glanced at you, and you realized he was nervous. Probably should have occurred to him to be nervous about the consequences of kidnapping an Avenger _before_ he actually did so, but you found that you weren’t in the mood to leave him squirming.

“I won’t let them put you back on probation, if that’s what you mean.” You butted your shoulder into his before leaning against his side. “After all, who would bring me chocolate if you weren’t free to teleport as you please.”

“Oh no,” he started to shift away, but your arm snaked around his waist to keep him close, “I am not smuggling in European chocolate at your every whim.”

“Mm,” you tilted your head back to look up at him in the barely-there light, “Yes, you are.” You might not have had his gift of magical persuasion, but he had your gift of well-earned guilt, and his exasperated little sigh as he gave into it made you grin.

“Yes,” he mused, “I suppose I am.”

You stood silent for a while, letting the gentle rhythm of the waves and the even breathing of your best friend lull you into a standing doze, and you barely felt the tug of matter displacement when he teleported both of you back to Avengers Tower. He was setting you gently onto your bed when your eyes fluttered open and you mumbled, “Loki?”

“Yes?”

“And Chicago deep dish. You’re also bringing me Chicago deep dish.”

His answering chuckle was warm and familiar, “I suppose I deserve that one.”

“You do.” You were already drifting off again, but you managed to whisper, “It was wonderful.”

The last thing you heard that night was your best friend humming your new favorite song, and it really was wonderful. All of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This is my first time writing anything in 2nd POV, so I'd love it if you have any tips on how to improve my writing in this style and would drop them in the comments.
> 
> This was a pretty self-indulgent fic, as I've always wanted to travel Route 66 in its entirety but just haven't had the time/right road trip buddy. As such, the song I imagine for their "Trip Song" is Route 66 (specifically the Chuck Berry version if you're curious) but I intentionally left the wording of the fic itself open to your imagination.


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